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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367112">The Dragon Huntress</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mysterious_Crimson_Lotus/pseuds/The_Mysterious_Crimson_Lotus'>The_Mysterious_Crimson_Lotus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fantasy, Just a bit of an experiment, Two Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:02:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mysterious_Crimson_Lotus/pseuds/The_Mysterious_Crimson_Lotus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hyuuga are famous throughout the forest for many things. Their signature eyes, their stoic demeanour... and of course, their ability to hunt down dragons like no one else. It has been their duty to protect the five villages from the terror of the dragons for generations, and it is a duty that they have carried out without complain, and without a second thought. </p><p>Enter Hinata.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY HINATA, AND MERRY CHRISTMAS PEOPLE</p><p>This fic is a bit of an experiment, and I hope that y'all will enjoy the premise.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nature is based on cycles. The water that flows from the mountains, nourishing the lands it passes through, accumulates in the lakes and the seas, from which it rises to the heavens, only to fall upon the mountains once more. The day, bringing warmth and light, surrenders to night, harbinger of cold and dark, then rises once more in the morning. Even the oxygen breathed by the animals exists in a cycle, whereby the carbon dioxide expired feeds the tree which blesses the air with more life sustaining oxygen. </p><p>One such cycle is that of predator and prey, hunter and hunted, life and death. This is one cycle she knows well, and one to which she is resigned to take part in. Such is the law of nature, a law of harmony which is to never be broken. </p><p>And, with this in mind, she draws her bow, feeling the weight of the polished wood bend as she pulls on the string, balancing her arrow against it as she takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes, taking stock of her surroundings through her other senses. She jumps on her heels slightly to test her balance on the branch serving as her perch, trunk on one side, the green ocean of humongous trees on all others. She feels the gentle tickle of the breeze upon her face, which carries a familiar, earthy aroma, product of the rain. Adjusting the brow’s position in accordance with the wind speed and direction, she takes stock of the sounds of the woods as she prepares. The flutter of the gigantic leaves, the distant chirps of the birds, the quiet gurgle of the nearby stream — all is clear. </p><p>She opens her eyes. She releases. </p><p>The crying of the birds as they take flight pierces the air. She is vaguely aware of the panicked flapping of wings as the birds fled through the distant ceiling of the forest, a canopy constructed from the dense network of huge leaves and criss-crossing branches that seemingly held up the sky. To her, the tall super trees may as well be the pillars holding up the heavens. Really, to her, there might not be any sky in the first place. All she cares about are the thin streams of light which filter through the canopy, falling to create the dim, foggy atmosphere that she grew up in, which allows her to confirm from a distance that her shot was successful. </p><p>The calm silence which was shattered only for a single infinitesimal instant by the whistle of her arrow returns, as though nature itself is shrugging at her insignificance, and inwardly, she can’t help but agree. </p><p>With the speed and the agility of the wind itself, she flies down from her high vantage point, not a single wasted movement as she seemed to glide down from branch to branch, barely disturbing the light green cloak she wears over her tunic. </p><p>She nods her head in grim satisfaction. </p><p>Right in the head. The streams of light from above place a spotlight on the arrow’s shaft protruding from the deer’s eye socket, setting the glistening scarlet dripping from the point of contact in stark contrast with the lush green serving as the poor creature’s deathbed. </p><p>There is no disgust, no regret, no emotion at all on her face, half obscured in the shadow of her hood. There is not a single moment of hesitation as she grabs the hind legs of the young fawn in one hand, the forelegs in the other. With a display of deceptive strength born from years of hard work, she flings the baby deer across her shoulders like some grotesque scarf and stalks off. </p><p>There is no room for remorse. It is simply nature, and nature dictates that all that is trapped in one of its eternal cycles conform to the destiny assigned to it. The fawn’s destiny was to die at her arrow, just as hers was to shoot it, and just how her destiny will to one day die and have her remains nourish the grass for future fawns to feed on. </p><p>You cannot, must not escape the cycles of nature. She knows that well now.<br/>
____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>“It is time.” </p><p>Her father’s announcement catches her off guard, but she does not let it show. He had been watching her from the moment she arrived at their quaint little tree cave, staring blankly as she brought in her kill for the day, along with a collection of berries and mint leaves. The declaration is sudden; after swallowing her initial shock, she turns to look at him, a neutral look forced on her face from hours of practice. </p><p>She nods. She knows exactly what he is referring to. </p><p>“I have given it much thought, and consulted with the elders, as well as with the high priests,” her father continues, unprompted, still an emotionless rock as he looks at his eldest daughter, whose hunter gear is covered in dried blood and grass stains. “You are ready.” </p><p>And with that, he turns around and goes through one of the many passages dug into the tree, perhaps to his study, leaving her to stand there with her dead fawn, processing what she had just been told. And in this very moment, though her expression does not change in the slightest, she can’t help the slight quaver in her voice as she announces her position out loud to the room. </p><p>“I’m gonna have to kill a dragon.” </p><p>____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>She swallows. The action is imperceptible to the outside, but inwardly, she curses herself for letting her anxiety get the better of her, even in this small way. She knows that she shouldn’t be thinking about her fears, knows that she should be listening to the chant of the elders around her — their sorry excuse for a prayer — but all of her thoughts are currently occupied by what lies beyond her little tent. The entire populations of the five Villages of the Forest sit in the Holy Stump, a stadium, impatiently waiting for the ritual to end so that they could proceed to the main spectacle. That’s all she is, she thinks, a spectacle for their amusement, no matter how auspicious the day. It didn’t matter that a new Guardian of the Forest was being anointed, they simply lived for the carnage. </p><p>She suppresses a shudder as the unbidden memory of the last mass gathering at the Holy Stump crawls through the forefront of her mind. Her’s was merely a grander, more sacred version of an annual tradition, which themselves were impossibly grand and highly anticipated. She is sure that she can actually hear the guttural screams and odious roars of approval from last year as the crowd cheered for her cousin. Combined with the fiery screech and final, defiant roar of the dragon as it succumbed to her legendary cousin’s arrows, she can’t help but feel like time itself is dissolving, transporting her back to the past. </p><p>But that isn’t an option. Today, she would not be sitting within the crowd as they chanted their blood chilling words of death, but would be the one cheered for, goaded into granting her dragon as painful and performative an execution as she could. Today, there would be no fleeing, no gripping the edge of her seat as she watched the show before her in horror. </p><p>Today, she will be the show. </p><p>And so, with not a single feeling on her face, nor the slightest sign of emotion or even apprehension anywhere, especially no in her pale eyes, she stood there, draped in the ceremonial light red robes of the Guardian of the Forest, the thin material giving her no comfort again the chill surrounding her. A wreath of golden leaves sits on her dark blue hair, which in contrast with her usual hunting mess, has been cleaned and groomed to the point where it was as though outer space itself flows from her scalp. She is at the center of a circle of elders, each dressed in the usual light green garments — in their fancy version — with the high priests in front, and her father and village heads behind her. </p><p>When the elders’ chanting, the Blessings of the Hearth, ends, she closes her eyes as per tradition, and feels the goose bumps as the priests paint fine strips of cold colour across her bare arms, one colour for each village. Finally, she turns to her father and suppresses a wince at the sickening sound of blade slicing through flesh. She feels the cold on her forehead as her father draws the final stripe across it, this one in red. It signifies the passage of the role from incumbent to heir, a tradition which she had awaited with dread, but which was another reminder from the universe to succumb to the cycle of heritage. </p><p>Today is the day. The day she inherits her birthright. The day they all thought would never come and the day she hoped would never come. </p><p>But it does not matter. Her destiny dictates that she accept this unflinchingly. </p><p>It is an event that occurs each time a member of her clan becomes of age. A ceremony for the five villages to celebrate the rise of another Hyuuga Archer. Yet this particular variant has not been done since her father had ascended as Guardian of the Woods. </p><p>She keeps her composure, even as her insides threaten to melt under the pressure. </p><p>“Open your eyes, Priestess of the Sun, Protector of the Villages Five,” the priests announce in unison.</p><p>She does as she is told. </p><p>“Move forth, Guardian of the Woods, and may the Anointing of the Hearth commence,” the priests cry dramatically. </p><p>The circle of elders breaks open, and the flaps of the tent are lifted. </p><p>And her mask begins to fail.<br/>
____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>The Holy Stump stands in the heart of the great forest, an enormous amphitheatre with a hexagonal base that widens and flares outwards as it goes up from the ground, until the six sides split, spread out and flatten like a flower in bloom. Five of the petals are meant to represent one of the five villages, with the last one reserved especially for her clan. </p><p>The place is so large that as she walks into the open space in the middle, she can’t help but feel exposed. Growing up in the woods, she is used to being constantly surrounded by trees, plants and animals, used to the rustle of leaves under her leather boots. Being in the open, to her, is a sign that you are prey, that the cycle she’s so used to has been reversed. Yet, as she begrudgingly walks across the glossy, polished wooden floor of the Holy Stump’s centre — the arena, as they call it — she feels pure, undiluted fear beginning to violently hack and slash its way out of the cage in her heart that she had placed it in. The hungry eyes of the countless villagers and tribesmen sitting in the stands all upon her like the sharp, piercing eyes of a hunter makes her feel vulnerable, and she can barely contain the shiver that passes through her. She struggles to hold back from hugging herself, shrinking into a little ball, completely unrecognisable from the legendary Guardian of the Woods. She fights back from rubbing her bare arms, feeling naked as she finally, finally reaches the very heart of the Holy Stump, standing before the small fire which burns on the ground. </p><p>The entire place is eerily silent. Unlike the previous Hyuuga Archer ceremonies she had attended, where the raucous cheering and laughing would fill even the colossal expanse of the main stage, she can barely hear anything but her own heartbeat. Perhaps it is due to how particularly auspicious her own ceremony is meant to be. </p><p>She’d rather hear the noises. Then she would be able to dissolve in the cacophony, pretend like no one was paying attention. </p><p>Everyone is paying attention. </p><p>She raises her hands in front of the fire, palms flat and facing the flames, and looks skyward. </p><p>“May the Sun God bless us for all eternity,”  she recites, and just about manages to stop from cringing at how quiet her voice comes out. She knows from experience that it is simply absurd to expect everyone to hear a single person in the middle of the Stump, but her attempt at the Guardian’s Vow seems feeble, even by her standard. </p><p>“May He protect us from the Terrors of the Night,” she says, louder this time, putting on a neutral yet confident tone of voice drilled into her by the elders which sounded fake even to her own ears. “May the Harbingers of The Dark Inferno perish under His Light, channeled through my bow! May the Forest grow forever strong and plentiful, safe from Their Wrath. I swear to the Forest, to the Villages Five, to Serve.” She falters. </p><p>She can’t do this. </p><p>“T-To be the Servant of the Sun God, to Protect the mighty Trees and the green of the Earth from the Flames of the Wrathful, to Submit to the will of Nature.” </p><p>She knows that her hands are shaking. She does her best to ignore it, focusing her gaze still upwards, towards the ceiling of green, even as she hears the sickening growls and vicious spitting and the grunts of labouring men. </p><p>“I am the Priestess of the Sun, Enforcer of the Forest’s Will, Guardian of the Forest.” Her voice quavers. “I am the Protector of the Villages Five, Servant of the Sacred Tribes, D-D…” </p><p>She can hear the snap of metal that signified the removal of the muzzle, and the mighty roar of the beast behind her forces her to pause. </p><p><i>I’m a huntress, I have killed my entire life,</i> she reminds herself. </p><p>“D-Destruction of the Dragons.” </p><p>Finally, she turns, and nearly faints on the spot. Standing before her, two times higher than her and wider than ten wild boars, its obsidian scales glinting the trickle of sunlight from above, its teeth sharp enough to cut her through sight alone, was the thing that she would have to kill to mark the ceremony as successful. </p><p>She would be anointed with its blood, a line of scarlet down her chest to prove the hatred she would have to bear towards all of its kind. </p><p>All Hyuuga are forced to kill their first dragon during this ceremony, dragons which are tracked down and captured just for the ritual execution, but for the new Guardian, they always bring in a Devil’s Curse, the most terrifying of them all. In fact, this particular specimen had been raised just for her. Bred and brought up alongside her, birthed and grown to fulfill its destiny, just like her. </p><p><i>I’ve killed before,</i> she reminds herself. </p><p>“A-and to prove my commitment to Protecting the Forest from their hideous Flames,” she struggles to say, “I shall vanquish this best in the hopes that this will be the first of m-many,” she swallows, and takes a long pause to prepare herself, “wh-whose blood I intend to b-bathe in.” </p><p>It’s her father’s cue. He crosses over to her from the dragon’s side and, after delivering one last cold look for her failure to properly recite the Vow, bows, handing her the Guardian’s Bow and Quiver in the same action. </p><p>She hesitates. She swallows. </p><p>She has no choice. </p><p>He straightens up, stepping to the side, almost glaring at her. She averts her eyes as she slings the quiver across her back. </p><p>The men surrounding the great dragon also back away, still holding onto the chairs suppressing the dragon, but loosening their grips and putting in distance all the same. However, the dragon doesn’t seem to notice; its gaze is fixed completely on her. </p><p>There is no roaring, no fire, no furious battle like that of her cousin’s. The dragon barely struggles against its bonds, as though it has already surrendered to destiny, and has given up to the cycle. </p><p>She draws the bow and aims the arrow at the dragon. </p><p>“T-Terrible beast.” It’s no more than a whisper. “Y-You and y-your kind have t-terrorised the forest and its p-people for f-far to long.” She wants nothing more than to tear her eyes away from those resigned, purple eyes, but can’t do it. So, instead, her eyes and those of the dragon are locked in a horrified trance. </p><p>She’s never done this before. She’s killed from a distance, drew the bow and watched the arrow sink into flesh, but it was always so fast, so impersonal. Staring into the dragon’s eyes, she can’t help but feel an overwhelming grief begin to wash over her. </p><p>She can’t do this. </p><p>She lowers the bow. </p><p><b>Boom!</b><br/>
____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Screams fill the Holy Stump as the spectators shriek and push against one another in panic. She watches in the stumped silence as several other fireballs smash into the stage, and, in her dazed trance, barely moves out of the way as one smashes into the place she had just been standing in. She hears her father yell for her to jump into action, but the explosion of that last fireball has set the arrows in her quiver on fire, and she desperately pulls it off and flings it away, just as she hears it — them. </p><p>Dragons. </p><p>Though she had never been allowed to kill them until today, the sounds of the rapidly flapping wings are unmistakable. The roars, too, shake her to her bones as they remind her of the raids of her childhood. She’s frozen in place, and can only watch as an entire herd of dragons seems to charge into the Holy Stump, blasting at people and setting things on fire. </p><p>Smoke begins to fill the air as the fires released by the dragons grow in size and intensity. The air above them is a rainbow of embers and colours as a myriad of dragons of different shapes and sizes breath fire upon the vulnerable below. The soot blocks the little arrows of light coming from the ceiling of leaves, and the entire area is engulfed in a swirling bubble of grey and red. </p><p>The Hyuuga Archers immediately jump into action, and within the first minute, several smaller dragons have already fallen, dead, upon the stage. Only she, paralysed in shock and fear, seems to be helpless as she watches one dragon, orange with several wings on each side, crash in front of her. Her eyes widen in surprise as a figure — a man — jumps down from its back. As the screams grow louder and the smoke got thicker, she can only stand there as the man releases the dragon from its chains and tries to coax it into the air. </p><p>“Come on! We gotta run, ya know!” she can vaguely hear from the chorus of chaos surrounding her. </p><p>Eventually, the Devil’s Curse shakes its head, and after a few experimental flaps of its wings, the mystery man climbs on it and, with a yell and a slap, the beast lifts off from the ground, the terrifying beast showcasing its horrific wingspan to its fullest extent. Sensing that the goal has been accomplished, the rest of the dragons stop blasting the area with fire and scatter, going in all directions as the Devil’s Curse, the man riding on its back, slowly makes its way away from the smoking, smoldering amphitheatre. </p><p>Now, all she hears is the sound of her own heart slamming against her chest, and the pained shrieks of the villages trying to make their way from the stump. The floor, reduced to smoking charcoal, is covered in ash and the fallen bodies of those dragons executed by members of her clan. </p><p>And she stood there the entire time, watching. Completely helpless.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, as said before, this story is a bit of an experiment. This idea would probably have worked better as a proper series, but, uh, I don't have the time nor the patience to juggle too many series at once. So, I guess here it is! I might tweak it a bit later in the future, but let me know what y'all think about how this was written.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To an outsider viewer, the blur travelling gracefully across the treetops resembles the flight of a bird, perhaps a bird of prey in pursuit of its next target. </p>
<p>But she is far from a bird, and if one is to ask her, she would tell you that she is far from graceful. </p>
<p>The arrows in her quiver shake, as do her hands. The bow slung across her shoulder jostles and knocked against her uncomfortably, getting in the way of her arms as she clumsily tries to keep from slipping on each and every branch she lands on. And it is only with the restraint born from years of constant correction and training under her father that she keeps the neutral expression on her face. </p>
<p>She does her best to stop the tears, to stop the quaver of her lips and so fight against twitches of her facial muscles as they try to break through her mask. Even here, in the middle of her hunt, she cannot allow herself to break as she had done an hour ago. </p>
<p>She had failed. She was supposed to be the one who protects the people from the terror of the dragons and she just stood there, watching as the thing she was meant to execute was taken away. </p>
<p>As soon as the dragons flew out of sight, she had jumped into action, her reflexes and training finally kicking in. She helped evacuate the Stump, yelled to a few of the priests that she was going to go after them — as is her duty — and dashed away. She got into her regular gear and cloak, and went into the night. </p>
<p>It is her fault that she was too weak to kill it sooner. The dragons are monsters — they deserve to be killed. It is up to her to re-establish the cycle that nature had thrown her into. Only she can reclaim her honour. She will use her years of training, the years of the clan destroying her, and track down the dragons. She will find the Devil’s Curse, and she will kill it, as destiny has dictated. </p>
<p>Even if the journey takes her to hell. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>She ignores the rumbling in her stomach, focusing instead on moving as silently as possible, grateful for the cover provided by the rain. Not much penetrates the thick canopy above, but the trickles of water and the droplets that do make it through create a constant splashing sound on the leaf covered forest ground, obscuring the sounds she makes. Avoiding the mud to prevent her prey from hearing her quelching her way to it, she crouches low, blinking hard against the droplets that fall and trickle from her hood. The moisture is a bit too much, but it is worth it as she creeps around the trees. </p>
<p>She pulls out an arrow, gripping hard on the slippery wet shaft. She attempts to hold back from shaking too much as she pulls back on the string. </p>
<p>The moment is here. The several weeks of hunting have been worth it. </p>
<p>Suddenly, she whips out from behind the tree, scattering droplets everywhere as she releases, watching the arrow whistle through the water as it flies directly at the dragon. The rain must have blinded her slightly though, because she misses the Devil’s Curse’s vitals, merely striking the side. The dragon, who had been hiding from the rain under the shade of several particularly thick trees, roars in pain. The arrow must have pierced its flesh in between scales, but it is not enough. </p>
<p>The dragon turns furiously and releases a giant, bluish burst of fire directly at her. Jumping out of the way, she avoids getting scorched, all while fitting another arrow onto her bow, her heart beating faster than ever, her hands shaking and slipping around her weapons in her panic. </p>
<p>Once more, she jumps out, only to yell in surprise and leap to the side, barely avoiding a much larger, much hotter fireball that singes the edge of her cloak. She rolls upon landing, putting out of the smoldering edges of the cloth, but immediately jumps out of the way of another fireball. </p>
<p>Panic begins to fill her as she continues to jump and dance away from the dragon, struggling against the rain as she does so. The pounding of her heart now feels like it is causing her entire body to shiver with each beat, making her practically vibrate. Blinded by the rain, she can’t afford to free a hand to wipe at her eyes, yet cannot aim properly as the dragon tries to mutilate her. It gives up on using fire, and leaps at her, faster than anticipated. She dodges, but the edge of a claw slices across her thigh, and she cries in pain as blood splashes out of the wound, mingling with the rain as it oozes onto her hunting trousers, which are covered in mud. Her breathing grows harsher and harsher, but there is no moment to rest, no moment to stop. </p>
<p>Its long, serpentine tail crashes next to her. She dodges, firing an arrow at its face, where it is blocked by the hardened scales. </p>
<p>It shoots fire again. She scrambles to a tree for cover, sliding on the mud to avoid a swipe of its forelegs. </p>
<p>The snapping jaw. The razor sharp claws. The heavy tail. The fire. </p>
<p>It is too much. </p>
<p>The dragon is roaring and shrieking terribly, the deep, guttural sounds penetrating her skin and making her very bones rattle with pain. It is the sound of pure hatred, and she can’t help but think that the cycle of the hunter and the hunted is incorrect. </p>
<p>What was she thinking?</p>
<p>Running around the dragon, she slips on the wet ground, slamming onto her front and knocking the wind out herself. Yet, almost by instinct, she finds the strength to roll away as a humongous foot crashing into the ground where she once was, and immediately, she pulls out an arrow and fires — straight into the beast’s eye. </p>
<p>The dragon’s screams are horrible. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p><i>It can’t have gone far,</i> she thinks to herself, forcing her legs to move faster as she runs across the forest ground, following the trail of dragon blood. She is staggering slightly, having only wrapped a thin, torn off part of her cloak around her wound, but she knows for certain that the dragon, blinded in one eye with a couple more arrows in its leathery wings, is incapable of flying too well. </p>
<p>She clutches her abdomen, clenching her teeth as the pain in her leg seemingly intensifies. She slips on the muddy ground again. </p>
<p><i>I have to do this,</i> she thinks, and, despite her hunger, despite her burns and cuts and bruises and fatigue, she tries to push herself up. <i>My honour… I can’t go back if…</i> </p>
<p>Her hands slip on the slick soil. She falls face first into the mud. </p>
<p>She lies there, thinking of the cruelty of destiny. </p>
<p>She should have never been in this situation. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Her eyes suddenly open, and she registers two things: the fact that the rain has stopped and the fact that there were thick, scaly boots in front of her. </p>
<p>She rolls away, hearing the swish and the splash of a rather heavy blade slicing through the air and cutting into the mud which her face had been lying on moments prior. Flipping into an upright position, she winces at the sudden pain that courses through her entire body at the movement, but ignores it, instead pulling out an arrow and fitting it to the bow in a smooth motion ingrained into her muscles from childhood. She releases before she even registers the man in front of her. </p>
<p>He dodges, but the arrow is shot with even force to slice through his leather armour and cause blood to splatter from his arm. Her assailant curses, and pulls the small axe from the ground, whipping around to throw it straight into her head. She rolls out of the way, bringing out another arrow as she does so, and aims it straight at his heart. </p>
<p>The man stops. </p>
<p>He’s definitely the man who had led the dragon attack during her ceremony. Everything from his build to his clothing confirms this. Taking the chance to survey him, she takes in his wild yellow hair, matted with blood and leaves, the three claw marks across each of his cheeks, and the furious light blue eyes trained on her, hatred oozing from them as their eyes momentarily meet. Averting hers immediately, she takes stock of his thick leather padded tunic and the comfortable looking hunting trousers. She notices him grip his wet axe handle tighter, before moving her gaze back up to his face to see that the tall man is positively glowering at her. </p>
<p>Her hands are shaking rather violently now. Making eye contact with the dragon during the ceremony was enough to put her off the execution. This is a person, looking at her with clear contempt in his eyes. </p>
<p>She had never killed a human before. </p>
<p>“Go ahead,” the man taunts angrily. “Shoot me. Do it, Hyuuga scum.” </p>
<p>She can’t help but gasp at this. Hunting as taught by the Hyuuga is easy. It’s always so impersonal. Here, she doesn’t know how to proceed. Already, she feels her resolve weaken, but then she feels another pang of hunger in her stomach. </p>
<p>This is her inescapable destiny. She is here to wash away her shame and reclaim her honour. </p>
<p>“Why did you attack me?” she tries in her most neutral voice, and feels humiliation rise at how much her voice is shaking. </p>
<p>“I don’t need to explain myself to you, murderer,” the man spits. “Come one, kill me! I don’t care, ya know!” </p>
<p>“Murderer?” </p>
<p>It’s just the opening he needs. His statement makes her loosen her grip on her bow, and he throws his axe at her. She dodges, but the man takes the opportunity to run the opposite direction, following the trail of blood that she had been, no doubt in an attempt to rescue the Devil’s Curse as he had six weeks ago. </p>
<p>She shoots at his back, but he ducks just in time. </p>
<p>“Leave the dragons alone!” she hears him yell as he dives into a thick set of bushes. </p>
<p>She drops her bow, too tired to give chase. She falls to her knees, watching the place the man had disappeared into. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>The arrow hits him in the legs, making him fall off his branch with a yell of pain. Luck is on his side, however, as his faithful dragon, an orange scaled beast with several tails, manages to fly under him and catch him on its back just in the nick of time, saving him from a broken neck.</p>
<p>She curses, and sends several more arrows at the dragon, but it proves too fast. Her adversary grabs onto the neck of his dragon and begins steering it, riding it like a horse through the air. She barely dodges the fire blast, and fires an arrow. It hits the man in the shoulder, but he merely holds on tighter, steering the dragon around a tree in a maneuver that forces her to slide through the course forest floor, littered with twigs and leaves, in order to avoid a set of sharp claws. She retaliates with a few more arrows, only for the man to dodge them using his expert flying abilities. </p>
<p>Then, after a couple more fireballs and arrows, he yells a taunt at her, then flies away. </p>
<p>This has been their routine for the past five months now, a delicate dance of luck and murder. No matter how much she tries to fulfill her duties as Guardian of the Forest, he constantly prevents her from doing so. </p>
<p>She doesn’t understand his bond with dragons, doesn’t know why he goes to such lengths to protect them. She does know that he is the biggest threat to the safety of her forest, and that her destiny is to hunt him down and put him down, along with his dragons. </p>
<p>That is a promise she intends to keep. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>It’s a wild dragon, one she is meant to kill on the spot. She hesitates, as tradition dictates she kill the Devil’s Curse first, but she nevertheless follows it, prepared to shoot it down the moment it begins to burn down any villages. </p>
<p>She follows it from the trees as it flies across the sky, followed by a few of its offspring. She watches from a distance as they hunt, fingering her arrow shafts nervously while watching from a distance. </p>
<p>They hear it first. By the time the faint crying noises reach her, the dragons are already off, following it down to the nearby stream. It was a child, lost by the looks of it, crying for its parents, sitting by the water and caked in mud. Drawing her arrow, she is immediately ready to shoot the dragons down as they neared the child, but to her utmost surprise, they come closer to the human not with animosity, but with gentleness. Perplexed, she watches the dragon offspring as they cuddle with the child, who starts laughing at the beasts’ playful nature. She follows them as the mother leads the young through the forest, and stifles a gasp as <i>he</i>, her nemesis, comes out of nowhere. </p>
<p>“Lost, are you?” he says soothly, picking up the child and smiling gently at her. “Don’t worry, we’ll find your parents.” </p>
<p>Hands gripping her bow all the way, she lurks in the shadows as he climbs on the mother dragon with practiced ease, the child in a makeshift backpack, and like before, tracks their movement as they travel through the air. </p>
<p>They landed near a human village. </p>
<p>There are no fires, no screams, no destruction. Just a very excited looking child, babbling nonsensically, who magically appeared at her village after a day of being lost. </p>
<p>She lets him go this time. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>“Missed me!” </p>
<p>She growls in frustration, leaping from branch to branch while desperately trying to land her shots. He’s fast; his dragon — Kurama, as she had heard him call it several times in the past — is small enough to change directions at incredible speeds, and the enemy is an ace flier. Still, even as he grows to learn her patterns of attack, she becomes better at predicting the way he moves, and even as he continues shouting his usual “murderer of innocent lives” insult, she fires an arrow directly at him then, at unimaginable speeds, shoots another arrow at what seemed like open space. </p>
<p>The arrow strikes her foe in the shoulder, interrupting him mid-jab, his surprised yell making her laugh. </p>
<p>Down below, the Devil’s Curse glares at her with its one eye, growling as it draws breath to blast her with a beam of blasts hot enough to incinerate several trees. It’s slow, however, and it is forced to withdraw under the hail of arrows that she is unleashing upon it. </p>
<p>“Leave him alone!” the man shouts as Kurama comes charging at her. She switches her branch, and ducks under the axe that he swings at her as he jumps off his dragon. “What have dragons ever done to you, anyways?” </p>
<p>Part of her can’t help but grin. It’s a conversation they have had several times in the past year, and it has played out in nearly the exact same way every time. It feels like a routine, a cycle that, while not dictated by nature, has naturally developed in her hunt to fulfill her destiny. </p>
<p>“They are monsters that terrorise our villages and burn down our sacred trees,” she cries back, launching a volley of arrows at him. </p>
<p>She’s unsure if she’s imagining things or not, but she thinks she spots a slight smile on his face as he charges in, slashing wildly with a knife. </p>
<p>“Only because you humans started murdering these poor creatures first, ya know!” </p>
<p>“They started it!” </p>
<p>“Nuh-uh!” </p>
<p>She’s unsure if it’s simply the exhausting repetition of it all, but at some point, the fear and panic she always had when hunting the dragons had evaporated, replaced by an almost comforting sense of satisfaction, and a thrill of excitement. </p>
<p>And part of that may be due to the fact that she has stopped aiming at vital spots, on him or on the dragons. </p>
<p>All she knows is she is tired. Tired of fear. Tired of trying to kill. Unable to hold back the envy every time she sees him flying on a dragon. Unable to stop from being consumed by jealousy at how easy it all looks, and how wonderful it must be to simply fly. Fly away from your troubles, from your responsibilities. </p>
<p>She glares at her enemy, and, with a guttural roar she never would have thought herself capable of making, aimed an arrow at him. </p>
<p>But not at his heart. A safe spot, capable of healing quickly. </p>
<p>She releases. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>She recognises the craftsmanship. Undoubtedly Hyuuga. Clenching her jaw at the realisation that she hasn’t been this close to the territory of the five villages in over a year, she kneels down and looks carefully at the baby dragon, caught in the metal Hyuuga cage trap. She cringes slightly at the burnt quality of the poor creature’s scales. It had clearly tried to use the little fire it is capable of breathing to burn its way out of the cage, only to burn itself on the heated metal. </p>
<p>It is a small thing, perhaps the size of an adult squirrel, more of a winged lizard than anything else. It is mewling pathetically, clearly in pain, and its eyes are fixed upon her own, wide and clearly full of fear. </p>
<p>“Aren’t you an expressive little fellow,” she says softly, and can’t help but smile at the way the little thing squealed. She looked around, taking note of the faint but irrefutable signs of recent human activity. The Hyuuga Archers who had set up this dragon trap were here only recently, and judging by the trap the tiny dragon was caught in, they will be back. </p>
<p><i>It is your duty as Guardian to vanquish the dragons,</i> she reprimands herself. Or rather, a memory of her father reprimands her. It was he who had imprinted upon her the idea that this was merely one facet of the never ending cycle between Hyuuga and dragons, and that it was useless to worm her way out of it, no matter how much one hated death. It was always in her blood to kill dragons. </p>
<p>Sighing, she sits down on the grass to contemplate what to do. She stretches out a tentative finger to the baby dragon between the bars.The baby seems willing, and its hissing and mewling stops as she begins stroking its head lightly. </p>
<p>Her mind wanders to her nemesis, and she smiles, remembering what he had told her the last time they had met. </p>
<p><i>”Dragons are just like all of us! You and the rest of the Hyuuga Archers just want more bloodshed to feel good about yourselves, ya know!”</i> </p>
<p>“So, just like all of us, huh,” she whispers to the baby dragon, stroking its head. </p>
<p>The little creature merely yawns in contentment.. <br/>____________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>It’s a moment she had imagined many times, with him on the ground, at her feet, defenseless, with her arrow aimed at his heart. She stares into his brilliant eyes, lavender on blue, and she can’t help but remember what they were like when she first saw them. Furious, filled with loathing and killer intent. And now… </p>
<p>She moves her arrow upwards, and aims it directly at the Devil’s Curse. It too, merely stares at her from its one eye, with no desire to protect itself present, much like it was back then, during her ceremony. Except now, it was not out of some trained ambivalence. It was no longer a stage prop, raised and bred to be slaughtered for the Hyuuga’s rituals. The burns and scars littered across her body were a testament to that. </p>
<p>She pulls back on the string, and the bow bends back, the arrow fitted in the perfect position to kill the mighty beast. The songs of the birds in the distance, the sounds of life surrounding them as they stand in place in the deepest part of the forest, feels right, like despite the violence that had just taken place here, it is all simply part of the scenery. </p>
<p>Unlike the first times she had faced off with this particular beast, she is calm, almost serene. There is no panic, no fear, not a single iota of doubt in her. </p>
<p>It is time for her to do as her destiny wants her to, to do her part in the inescapable cycle of life, of predator and prey, of Hyuuga and dragon. </p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the forest, feeling the breeze on her face. Her hands are completely steady, and her heartbeat is slow, confident. </p>
<p>“You know, we’ve been at this for almost two year, by my estimation,” she comments casually. “I think it’s time we learned each other’s names.” </p>
<p>“I couldn’t agree more,” she hears him say, and she can hear the grin in his voice, the grin that she had gotten so used to seeing during their deathmatches. “Naruto. Naruto Dragonborn.” </p>
<p>“That’s not your name,” she says. </p>
<p>“Alright, it’s Naruto Uzumaki, but you gotta admit, Dragonborn sounds way cooler.” </p>
<p>She nods. </p>
<p>“Hinata. Hyuuga Hinata.” </p>
<p>“Ah, of course.” From the sounds of it, his grin is getting wider. “Trust the Hyuuga to name the next Guardian something to do with the Sun. It’s quite poetic, ya know.” </p>
<p>“Yes, it is,” she whispers. Then, after a moment of silence, says, “I’ve always wondered…” </p>
<p>“Why do I do this?” </p>
<p>“...Yes.” </p>
<p>She hears him laugh, and despite her attempts at creating a dramatic moment to emphasise their current power dynamic, can’t resist opening her eyes slightly to peek a look at him, admiring the way his entire face seemed to shine as he smiled up at her. “Well, it’s a classic story, ya know. Orphan raised by dragons. They’re my family, so of course I protect them.” </p>
<p>She smiles back at him. She then looks up at the Devil’s Curse, eyes fully open and alert. She tightens her grip on the bow. </p>
<p>She doesn’t release. </p>
<p>“You know what I’ve always wanted to learn?” she says as she loosens her grip on the bow and puts the arrow back in the quiver. “How to fly.” </p>
<p>He raises a hand, and she pulls him up. </p>
<p>“I’ll show you. I’m an excellent teacher, you know.” </p>
<p>She puts her bow and quiver on the forest floor, and relaxes her face. Her mask fully breaks, and she grins fully back at him. </p>
<p>“Lead the way.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah, How to Train Your Dragon was a real inspiration for this one. This fic was actually the product of another fic idea, this weird Harry Potter/Breath of the Wild thing that I made up recently, which I'll probably never write. (Basically, the war against Voldemort drags on for a decade and involves the entire world. Eventually, Harry kills Voldemort and dismantles his entire government, but dies in the process. Except it's not all dandy cause the world was so fucked up by the war that society basically has collapsed and the world is ruled by warlords. And in this post apocalyptic world, you get Harry and Ginny's daughter (they only had one kid before Harry got killed) who has great raw magical potential that she can't control (in typical fantasy story fashion, of course). So, at a young age, Ginny (who is still fighting with the Resistance in order to re-establish order) leaves Lily with Hagrid, and the two travel through the wilderness, and Hagrid sort of teaches her archery as a way to help her learn to control her powers. She also becomes a dragon tamer and flies around on them.)  ANywAys, hope you all enjoyed this so far and see y'all tomorrow for the next half. (you may be wondering why I can't just release it all at once. The answer is simple: OVEREXCITEMENT! Plus, I wanted to do something for Hinata's birthday and if I wait until the whole story is finished it WON"T BE HER BIRTHDAY ANYMORE)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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